


The Fjords of Light

by sousatayue



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Brief mentions of racism, Cards Against Humanity, Dreams and Nightmares, Flashbacks, Gen, Horror, Mentions of drugs, Missing Persons, Original Character Death(s), Panic Attacks, Plague, Police investigation, Possession, Psychic Abilities, References to past trauma, Science Fiction, Telepathy, Time Travel, UNIT, Vomiting, War, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 08:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28348542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sousatayue/pseuds/sousatayue
Summary: What do a missing persons case on 21st-Century Earth, all-out war against the Daleks in the 23rd Century, and a bizarre eye disease have in common? Not much...except the Weeping Angels. And the Doctor.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	1. Death Trap

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> A little tidbit about this fic: I actually started writing this back in 2018, originally posting it on ff.net. After putting TFoL on indefinite hiatus in March 2020, I finally decided to try reworking it a bit and to give this old story some new life.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

EARTH, 2019 CE

STAFFORD, UK

Inspector Larry Wilder frowned, wondering why something that should be so simple as finding a few Danish tourists could be _so_ difficult. The call had come in a few hours earlier, saying that a family of three vacationing from Copenhagen had missed their flight, and that the Danish Embassy had called Scotland Yard to assist in the search.

Except _those_ officers never came back.

The Staffordshire police division had soon been ordered by London to find both the tourists and the missing officials from Scotland Yard. Wilder's superior hadn't understood the main issue with taking the case.

The problem? The last place the Danes had been seen was the local "haunted" castle, which was notorious for people going missing on a random basis. Even some officers had disappeared over the past several years, without any explanation as to why.

Or _how,_ for that matter.

Chief Inspector Archer Greenlee had overruled all of his underlings' protests and decided to have them investigate anyway.

"The five of us will check things out inside," Greenlee announced shortly after all officers present exited their vehicles. He gestured to Wilder and two others. "You three stay out here." His eyes narrowed. "Don't cause trouble."

Wilder glanced at the others, noticing one was giving a single-fingered salute behind the backs of the departing officers. He dropped it as soon as he noticed Wilder watching, ashamed.

"Watch it, son," the Inspector said sternly. "You may be new, but you need to be better than that."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

Wilder folded his arms, sighing. "This bloody sucks."

"No kidding," a fellow Inspector, Jenkins, muttered. "First we lose some Danes, and now Scotland Yard can't do their own _job_ properly?"

"Better not be those things with the plungers again," a Constable, Miller, complained. "You remember what happened back in '09?"

Wilder nodded, recalling the planets in the sky and the horrors afterward. "How can anyone forget?"

"Now's not the time to bring that up, Miller," Jenkins chastised. "Our superiors are working on this; they'll be back."

Wilder sneered. "Yeah. While we're left on guard duty. _Again._ "

Miller raised an eyebrow. "So, let me get this straight: You two are Inspectors, and Greenlee hasn't let either of you in on any of the action yet?"

"Not since he took over this past November," Jenkins admitted. "And it's not just us; it's _all_ the officers with a different skin colour than him."

"So, he's a racist arse."

"I was trying to be polite." Jenkins frowned. "But, yes."

Miller folded his arms. "Man, just _wait_ until we get in on the action! I'd love to see the look on his face when we show him that we're not incompetent!"

Jenkins and Wilder nodded approvingly.

Wilder wasn't sure how much time had passed after that, but the weather outside was making himself and the others painfully aware of the cold winters in northern England.

"Have they found anything yet?" Jenkins asked.

Wilder snorted, checking his wristwatch. "It's been an hour."

"In case you lot haven't noticed, this place is too damn _big_ to get anything done in less than an hour!" Miller retorted, gesturing to the castle.

Wilder folded his arms. _Valid point._ "We'll give them another forty minutes. If they're not back out by then, we'll radio."

Just under twenty minutes had gone by before Wilder's radio buzzed to life. _"This is Greenlee!"_ the voice of their superior hollered. _"Does anybody copy? I need backup! There are these things, these—"_

The last thing the three heard before the transmission was reduced to static was Archer Greenlee's bloodcurdling scream.

Jenkins activated her radio. "Greenlee, this is Jenkins. Do you copy?"

_Static._

She tried again. "Greenlee, this is Jenkins. Please respond!"

_Static._

Miller sighed. "It's no use, Jenkins. We ain't getting _shite._ "

Wilder loaded a clip into his pistol. "Well, you heard the man. Let's get in there."

The others nodded, following Wilder's actions. A couple of minutes later, they entered the castle, turning on their electric torches.

"This place gives me the creeps," Miller remarked, the light reflecting off his dark skin. He pointed his torch to the right. "Isn't that where Queen Elizabeth I did her beheadings?"

"Probably," Wilder responded, gulping. "I'd rather not find out, thank you very much."

Jenkins shook her head, black curls bouncing in all directions. "Come on, you two."

Wilder wasn't sure how much time had passed as they ventured deeper into the castle. He kept getting a strange vibe, one that kept screaming for them to _get the hell out._

But they couldn't. They had a job to do.

Jenkins' radio crackled, startling the officers. _"Hello? Is anyone there?"_

The woman sighed exasperatedly, activating it. "Greenlee, this is Jenkins. Are you alright, sir?"

" _Of course. I'm fine,"_ the man reassured them, his voice oddly cheerful. _"Is there anyone with you?"_

"Yes, sir," Jenkins confirmed. "Wilder and Miller are here as well. Where are you?"

" _Are you in the castle?"_

Jenkins rolled her eyes. "Yes, sir, we're in the castle. Where the hell are you?"

" _Just keep going."_

Jenkins raised an eyebrow, exchanging confused looks with the rest of the group. "Can you repeat, sir?"

" _Just keep going."_

Miller frowned. "Okay," he said slowly, glancing at them. "Didn't that seem _odd_ to you?"

"Yeah," Jenkins responded. "He's _never_ that cheerful, _especially_ when he's around officers like _us._ " The Inspector's lip curled in distaste at that last part.

"Racist bastard or not, he's still our superior," Wilder reminded them sternly. "We should at least see if he's okay."

Jenkins sighed. "Damn it, Wilder. If this shit goes south, I'm gonna haunt your arse."

"Fine by me."

Several minutes passed by, the exit vibe screaming louder and louder throughout Wilder's entire being. One quick glance at his squadmates told him that _they_ had likely felt it, too.

_Well...that's just great._

They paused. Jenkins folded her arms. "Anyone get the feeling we're being watched?"

Miller nodded. They looked to their right, seeing a mirror. All three officers saw their reflection, as well as some rather angry-looking statues behind them, staring accusingly at the mirror.

It looked downright _creepy._

"Well, if _that's_ not a sign to bugger off, I don't know what is," Miller remarked, voice wavering.

"Maybe the Danes got chicken and bailed?" Wilder suggested hopefully.

"Honestly…" Miller was uncertain at this point. "Is this some sort of prank or something?"

"Hell if I know." Wilder sighed. "Let's find the others and get the heck out of here."

"Second," Miller and Jenkins said in unison.

The deeper they went, the worse the feeling became. At first, Wilder thought it was fear. Now, he realised it was dread.

"There's something up ahead," Miller announced, breaking Wilder out of his brooding. The three shone their torches forward, landing on a human-like figure on the ground.

"That looks like a body," Wilder breathed.

"No shit, Sherlock," Jenkins retorted. "Let's check it out."

They walked slowly towards it, stopping only about a metre or so away.

"Oh my God," Jenkins whispered, recoiling.

Wilder gagged.

Miller vomited to their left.

There was _definitely_ a corpse in front of them, all right. The spinal cord looked to have been ripped clean out of the poor man's body, leaving parts of the brain exposed. To the right of the body, a Chief Inspector's cap lay uselessly, covered in blood. A police radio crackled. A closer look at the identification number on his vest revealed that it belonged to—

"Greenlee," Wilder breathed.

Jenkins's lip curled in disgust. "Looks like he's been dead for a few hours." Her eyes narrowed. "But then…who contacted us?"

_Oh shit…oh shit._

_I think we just walked into a trap._

_We're **really** fucked now._

It was Wilder's turn to vomit. When he finished, he looked at the others, eyes wide with terror as he wiped his mouth. "We need to get out of here. _Now!"_

"What about everyone else?" Miller asked.

"To hell with 'em!" Wilder snapped. "This is not just a major incident now; it's a death trap! Whatever's here, it's after _us_. We need backup before we can do anything else!"

The others nodded wordlessly. They turned around, running as fast as they could away from their superior's corpse.

"Which way to the exit?" Jenkins asked, panic clear in her voice now.

Miller pointed to a hallway on their left. "This way! Hurry!"

They kept running. Two corridors later, their torches went out.

"Shite," Jenkins muttered.

Wilder was far less calm. "WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO NOW?!"

They stopped, frantically attempting to get the torches back on.

Their efforts ultimately proved to be futile.

"Well, this isn't good," Miller said angrily. "Anyone got a lighter?"

Wilder dug through his pocket, finding one. "Got it." He lit the flame, grabbing a wooden rod from the wall. "This should work." He turned, seeing a scared expression on Jenkins' face, a shaking hand pointing at something behind them. Wilder blinked, and suddenly, inexplicably, Jenkins was gone.

"HOLY SHIT!" Miller screamed, panicking.

"Laura?" Wilder hollered. "LAURA!"

"Where is she?!" Miller asked, terror clear in his voice. He looked in the direction Jenkins had just disappeared from. "Uh…Inspector?" He tapped Wilder on the shoulder. "Larry, there's something over there." He turned. "And there's something in front of you, too, mate."

Wilder looked around wildly, just in time to see Miller disappear right before his eyes.

_Bloody hell._

His heart leapt to his throat. "BRUCE? LAURA?"

Silence.

Wilder tried calling their names again, but was once again met with silence.

_What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck???_

_I need to get help._

_Fast._

He turned around, seeing a wicked-looking statue in front of him. He backed up, terrified.

_Okay._

_Run._

_Just run._

_Just turn around and—_

A cold hand seized his shoulder, and suddenly everything within the corridor was gone.


	2. Beethoven's 9th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and his companions attend a performance of Beethoven’s 9th by the London Symphony Orchestra. The next morning, the Time Lord finds a strange device in his coat, with no memory of how it got there…

EARTH, 1973 CE

LONDON, UK

"Ah," the Doctor said, pulling the lever to the TARDIS' doors. "Here we are: London, 1973, right outside the concert hall."

The Time Lord and his copilot exited the TARDIS, breathing in the city air as the ship's doors closed shut behind them. London was a welcome sight. No Daleks, no Cybermen, just—humans. Humans, the Doctor noted, along with random, everyday occurrences and a concert that Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart invited the TARDIS crew to attend in just under an hour. The Doctor was excited.

His companion…

"What's so great about Beethoven?" Jo complained. The Doctor shrugged. "He's one of the best composers of the Classical and Romantic eras," he explained. "His pieces are quite remarkable, Miss Grant. You don't know what you're missing."

Jo rolled her eyes. "Oh, alright." She didn't look convinced, but she didn't argue with him.

The Doctor gestured to the building's entrance. "Come on, Jo. It's not that much longer now."

They walked inside, seeing Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, Captain Yates and Sergeant Benton waiting in the lobby. The Doctor waved, catching the soldiers' attention.

"Ah, Doctor, good," Lethbridge-Stewart said approvingly, approaching the TARDIS crew. "Hello, Miss Grant. Nice to see you again."

"Likewise," Jo responded.

The Doctor shook his hand. "Brigadier," he greeted. "Thank you for inviting us."

"It's no problem at all," the Brigadier reassured him. "Shall we take our seats?"

They entered the auditorium, sitting at the area designated on Lethbridge-Stewart's tickets: the third row from the front. It was still relatively close to the stage, but offered a good view nonetheless. The lights darkened a few minutes later, signalling the start of the performance.

_This is it,_ the Doctor thought excitedly.

The curtains rolled back, revealing the musicians of the London Symphony Orchestra as they tuned their instruments. The conductor walked onstage once they were finished, bowing amidst applause from the crowd, before taking his place on the podium. He raised his hands, baton in his right, looked at the ensemble, and waved the baton to initiate the preparatory beat.

Thus marked the beginning of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.

The Doctor smiled as the music twisted and turned in its ethereal grandeur. When the starting movement concluded, the Time Lord stood, clapping enthusiastically (and admittedly getting ahead of himself a bit). Jo pulled him back into his seat as the next movement started, a stern look on her face.

_Wait until the end,_ she mouthed.

The Doctor didn't mind, though he offered a slightly apologetic shrug in response. He really liked Beethoven's works, although he couldn't quite put his finger on why they struck such a strong chord with him.

But that was a matter for another time.

The performance concluded about a bit more than an hour later, met with thunderous applause from the crowd as they stood. The Doctor stood with them, a smile on his face as he, too, applauded the musicians. People started to exit a few minutes later, the Doctor's group being among the last of the patrons to do so.

"Well, what did you think?" the Time Lord asked eagerly, once he, Jo, and the UNIT soldiers made their way to the outside of the building.

"I think it sounded a bit better than your flute playing skills," Jo teased.

The Doctor looked at the laboratory assistant, miffed. _"Really,_ Jo, these are professionals. I used to do it for a hobby."

Yates shrugged. "It _did_ sound better in person than on a recording."

The Doctor beamed. _Now **that's** more like it._ "Yes, it did!"

Jo frowned. "I don't get why he'd name a piece after an emotion. 'Ode to Joy'? How can there be a serenade to a feeling?"

_Hmmm. Good question._ "Music is a complicated thing, Jo," the Doctor said, trying to explain. "Remember how I played the flute?"

"Yeah."

"And you were terrible at it," Lethbridge-Stewart added.

"I'm trying to make a point here," the Time Lord muttered, turning back to the woman. "Well, you see, Jo, each piece that I have learned is based on a composer's interpretation of a given concept, such as an emotion or feeling," the Doctor summarised. "It isn't always named, but it's still beautiful. And Beethoven…well, to be honest, I have no idea why he chose to name that particular piece the way he did."

Benton piped up. "Well, you've got a time machine, don't you, Doctor? Why not just ask him?"

_Now there's an interesting prospect._ The Time Lord beamed. "I hadn't thought about that. What a splendid idea! We'll go tomorrow morning!"

"I personally do not mind one way or the other," the Brigadier muttered. "Just so long as you let me get some sleep first."

It was ultimately decided that the TARDIS crew would crash at UNIT HQ for the night. The Doctor curled up inside the TARDIS around 23:00, falling asleep near the console not long after laying down on the floor.

His dreams were fitful and bizarre. 

But, for some reason, he could not recall the details once he woke up shortly after 09:00 the next morning.

The Doctor stretched once he _did_ awake, feeling somewhat refreshed. After taking some time to relieve himself, he walked over to UNIT's break room to brew a pot of coffee.

"Better be a strong one," he muttered to himself as he waited for the coffee machine to finish. "I've got to be wide awake if I'm to see Beethoven."

The machine took its own sweet time, though, testing the Doctor's patience.

_I need coffee._

_**Please** give me coffee._

"Mm, that smells good."

The Doctor turned, noting briefly that the beverage had now been brewing for a couple of minutes. He smiled, seeing the Brigadier. "Lethbridge-Stewart!" he greeted. "Care for a cup?"

"I think I'll take you up on that offer," the Brigadier conceded, rubbing his temples. "Ugh…this strange dream kept me up all night."

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Really? What kind of dream was it?"

"Not the pleasant kind."

"What was it about?" the Doctor asked, curious.

Lethbridge-Stewart shrugged. "I don't remember much; just a beautiful planet and so much sadness. Oh, and there was a rather strange woman." His face became serious. "Don't tell Benton; he'd never let me live it down."

The Doctor let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Oh, believe me, Brigadier, my lips are sealed." He poured the coffee. "Are you and Benton coming with us?"

"Benton already said yes. And as an avid listener of Beethoven myself, I wouldn't miss this for the world," the Brigadier told him. "Yates says he's interested as well."

"Splendid!" The Doctor took a sip, shuddering in distaste. The Brigadier held his mug in a mock toast. "That's office coffee for you, Doctor. You'll never know what you'll end up with."

_That's obvious._ "Well, never mind that," the Doctor retorted. "Sugar?"

The Brigadier pointed to a cylindrical container to the Doctor's left. The Time Lord mixed a few spoonfuls in, approving of the new addition after taking a sip. "That's a lot better." He glanced around. "Are the others up yet?"

"I saw Miss Grant about twenty minutes ago," the Brigadier said. "I think Benton and Yates decided to sleep in."

"I'll wake them after I finish consuming this beverage." The Doctor exited the break room, finding that Jo had already decided to wake Yates _for_ him.

Or, at least _try_ to.

_"Nggh…"_ The Captain batted her arm away. "Five more minutes." He laid back down on the sofa.

Jo rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Mike, get up. It's almost nine thirty."

"Then I'll— _yawn_ —I'll wake up at nine thirty-five."

"And then you'll keep procrastinating about it so that we don't _get_ anywhere," Jo retorted.

"Let me sleep."

Lethbridge-Stewart folded his arms. "Oh, for God's sake!" He walked over to the sofa, tapping loudly on a nearby table after seeing that Benton was also still asleep. "Up and at 'em! That's an order!"

Both soldiers sat up abruptly, gazing bleary-eyed at the Brigadier. "All right," Yates muttered. "I'm awake."

"Splendid," the Doctor said, noticing Benton entering the room. "Okay, good, that's everybody. Shall we?"

The Doctor fished through his pockets, trying to find the TARDIS key. What he pulled out instead was completely different. The Time Lord stared at the object curiously, perplexed. Crystals waved through the device, glowing with amber-coloured light when the button was pressed for a brief second, interlaced with the metal protecting them. The shape was odd, warped—somehow reminding him of spoons, yet the artisanship was very beautiful. It was around the same size as his sonic screwdriver, with maybe only a few centimetres difference in length, and had a similar buzz associated with it as well.

Then there was this feeling the device imposed on the Doctor.

_Sadness._

It felt… _sad,_ somehow, holding the device, bordering along the lines of melancholy.

The Doctor couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt tears start to surface not long after looking at it. But _why?_ He didn't recall having this thing in his coat before; _certainly_ not within the past several hours.

No…there was something more to it that he didn't understand.

_What **are** you?_

"Doctor?"

The Doctor straightened, wiping his eyes in order not to show his moment of weakness to the others. "Yes? Oh, right. TARDIS key." He put the device in one hand, fishing through his pockets for the second time with the other. "Ah, let's see…There you are!" He held up the TARDIS key, proceeding to unlock the ship. The five of them entered, doors closing shut behind them.

"Doctor?" Jo asked after a moment. "That thing in your hand…what is it, exactly?"

The Doctor looked down, having momentarily forgotten about the unknown device. "I don't have any idea, Jo," he admitted. "This was in my coat, and it wasn't there yesterday."

"Maybe you just forgot about it," Yates suggested.

"Perhaps." But the Time Lord was not convinced. He feigned a smile. "Never mind that; let's find Beethoven first, shall we?" He pulled the lever, starting the TARDIS on its latest journey. Even as they travelled through the Time Vortex, however, the Doctor couldn't stop looking at the strange thing in his hand, that feeling of inexplicable sadness returning.


	3. Graveyard Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After enjoying a pizza and cards night with Ryan and the Doctor, Yaz gets an early-morning call from work with a request to work a missing persons case in Staffordshire, where tourists and officers have reportedly been disappearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year's Eve!

_EARLIER… (Relatively Speaking)_

_EARTH, 2019 AD_

SHEFFIELD, UK

"Hello! Pizza delivery for Number Thirty-Four!"

Yasmin Khan beamed, bouncing up from her sofa, cash in hand upon hearing the knock on the door. She opened it, revealing a freckly teenager holding a pizza bag in his hands.

"Hello, miss," he greeted her. "Let's see here…" He checked the receipt. "Three large pizzas—one pepperoni, one cheese, and—" He squinted. "One made with all the peppers in the kitchen, including the hot ones."

_Yep. **That** one's the Doctor's._ Yaz nodded. "Yeah; my friend's got a hell of a spice tolerance."

"I'll say." The delivery boy glanced back up. "£26.50."

Yaz gave him thirty quid, telling him to keep the change as she took the pizzas from him. She went back inside, grinning as she shut the door behind her. "Ryan, Doctor, food's here!"

The Doctor darted into the common area, beaming. "Awesome! I haven't had the spicy stuff in a while!"

"Save some for the rest of us, will you?" Ryan muttered, walking in.

Yaz frowned. "Is Graham coming?"

Ryan shook his head. "Nah; he's working overtime. Doesn't get off 'til one in the morning."

"I thought he was retired," the Doctor said, brow furrowing.

"He is," Ryan confirmed. "One of his bus driver pals is on holiday, and they needed someone to cover his shifts. He volunteered."

"I see," the alien responded, a sympathetic expression on her face. "I do hope he'll be alright."

"Overtime isn't the end of the world, you know," Yaz pointed out, setting the pizzas down on the kitchen table. Ryan reached into his bag, revealing a small box. Yaz's eyes widened as he put it between them. "Cards Against Humanity?"

"Yep," Ryan confirmed. "Is your family going to be home soon?"

"They're on holiday 'til the 25th," Yaz reassured him. "We've got the place to ourselves until then."

The Doctor looked at her curiously, holding up the box. "It's just a card game, isn't it? What's the big deal?"

Ryan's eyes widened. "You've never played?"

The Doctor shook her head.

Yaz locked eyes with Ryan, both young adults smirking. The Doctor, meanwhile, stared back at them, confused. "What?"

Yaz grinned. "You're in for a treat, Doctor."

They set up at the table. The Doctor sat down, eyeing it curiously. "Alrighty, then. How does this work?"

* * *

_TWO HOURS LATER…_

"I'm going to get tea," the Doctor announced, slightly red in the face. "Anyone else want some?"

Ryan nodded. "I'll take a cup, thanks."

"Yaz?"

"Maybe later," she said. She glanced at Ryan, whispering as soon as the Doctor was out of the general vicinity. "I think we made her uncomfortable."

Ryan shrugged. "I dunno; she looked like she was enjoying herself." He shook his head, laughing quietly. "Honestly, I didn't expect her to be so good so quickly."

"Yeah," Yaz agreed, recalling how the Doctor had racked up so many black cards. She grabbed another slice of pepperoni pizza, realising after she bit into it that she probably should have reheated it first as it was now cold. Oh, well.

The Constable finished her slice just as the kettle went off. The Doctor made her way back to the table several seconds later, holding two steaming mugs of tea. "There you go, Ryan," she said approvingly. The alien sat down, stretching. "So…any ideas on what you guys want to do this week? Past? Future? Alien motorbike races?"

Yaz and Ryan exchanged glances. "Well," Ryan said slowly, "Why not just keep it to Earth for a bit?"

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"I'm just saying," Ryan added quickly. "We've been to so many places and times, but you haven't experienced Sheffield life the way _we_ have, Doctor. Why not just settle down and live a little?"

The Doctor folded her arms. "The last time I _really_ settled down I ended up fighting a siege for 900 years straight in a town called Christmas," she said, shuddering.

"Okay," Ryan said carefully. "But you're not at war this time. You'll be fine."

Yaz nodded. "You can stay with me, Doctor. Besides, there are _loads_ of places around Sheffield that we can show you. What do you think?"

The Doctor considered this, nodding after a moment. "I'll try it."

* * *

_Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz-_

Yaz rolled onto her side, groaning as she checked the time on her mobile. _04:07._ A quick glance at the Caller ID told her that it was her precinct's dispatch office. She answered the phone, wondering why they would be calling her so early. "PC Khan."

_"Sorry to wake you, Yaz,"_ Ramesh Sunder said, a serious tone in his voice.

Yaz sat bolt upright, realising something was wrong. "Did something happen, Sergeant?"

_"Yeah,"_ her superior admitted. _"I've got a tricky one for you."_

"Okay…"

" _There's a missing persons case up in Stafford involving a family from Denmark. The Danish embassy contacted Scotland Yard after the three missed their flight back to Copenhagen a few days ago. The problem is, none of the officials in Scotland Yard came back, so Staffordshire police sent their own squad to investigate."_

"And they didn't come back either?" Yaz asked, troubled.

_"Nope,"_ he said grimly. _"Neither did a group sent from Derbyshire earlier this evening. That being the case, Hallamshire got asked assist as well. Problem is, the local castle's notorious for local disappearances, and after what happened yesterday, a lot of our officers are too scared to go over there. Can't say I blame 'em. I figured, due to a certain interest in **not-** so-boring stuff, I'd send you. Maybe it's just as well, since so many people have already gone missing as it is."_

_Staffordshire?_ The woman's brow furrowed. "But sir, with all due respect, Stafford's way outside of our jurisdiction."

_"I know,"_ Sunder affirmed. _"But the Staffordshire commissioner **himself** asked our chief constable for assistance in this, and I'm under orders."_

Yaz nodded. _There's not much either of us can do about it in that case._ "Understood. What time do you want me over there?"

_"As soon as possible, before any tourists show up."_

"Got it. What are their names?"

" _Emma, Rasmus, and Jakob Hansen."_

Yaz nodded. "And the address?"

Sunder gave it to her. She wrote it down on a nearby notepad to keep track of the information. "Thanks. Have a good rest of the night." Yaz hung up, stretching. She put her uniform on, making a mental note to stop for coffee en route. She grabbed her mobile, walking quietly so as not to wake Ryan and the Doctor.

Speaking of…

Yaz grabbed a pen and paper, scribbling a quick note for her friends, leaving it on the counter before heading out the door.

> **_Gone to work. Something came up early; with any luck this assignment should be resolved soon. If you want breakfast, feel free to make something. Just don't set off the smoke alarms._ **
> 
> **_-Yaz_ **

Fortunately for the Constable, she was eventually able to find a coffee shop that was open at four-something in the morning. She parked at an establishment in Chesterfield 20 minutes or so into the drive, walking inside. Unsurprisingly, it was relatively quiet, save for rock music being played over the speakers.

A barista looked up, smiling as she walked over to the register. "Working the graveyard shift today, Constable?"

"Yep," Yaz confirmed. She looked at the menu. "Hmmm. What strong ones do you have?"

"Well, we've got Americanos, lattes, cold brews, and pretty much every other espresso beverage on the menu that would qualify in that area," the barista informed her.

Yaz perused the menu again. "I'll have a medium latte, please."

"Anything else?"

She shrugged. "A couple o' scones couldn't hurt."

The barista keyed in the request. "Is that for here or to go?"

"To go, please."

"£8.17."

Yaz handed the woman nine quid, receiving her change within seconds. "I'll have it available for you shortly," the barista told her.

Yaz stood off to the side, looking out the window. The predawn sky looked absolutely beautiful.

"You don't seem like a local," the barista remarked. "Where are you from?"

"Sheffield," Yaz responded, turning back to the employee. "What made you think I wasn't local?"

"All the coppers in Derbyshire have stopped by this place one time or another. I haven't seen you around before, so that means you're either new or you're from out of town." The barista glanced up. "Do you want your scones heated up?"

"That would be fine, thanks," Yaz responded. She frowned. "If you don't mind me asking, is there a petrol station on the highway between here and Stafford? I don't need it right now, but I will on the way back."

"Of course there is. I'll give you the address in a moment." She put Yaz's order on the counter. "Here's your food, ma'am."

Yaz grabbed her stuff. The barista stared at her intensely, a sudden change from the previous few minutes.

_Huh._

The constable narrowed her eyes. "Is something the matter?"

"Just so you know, officers have been disappearing lately," she told her, handing the constable the petrol station address. "Some of them were regulars here. If you see anything out of the ordinary, Constable, anything at all, you get yourself out of there. Fast."

Yaz nodded. "Sure. I-I'll do my best." She left, confused. It was obvious that the barista was trying to warn her about something, and that something might be at the castle.

"What did she know?" Yaz whispered, starting up her car. She checked the clock. _04:53._ "It doesn't matter right now; I have to get moving." She took a sip of coffee, then shifted the vehicle into gear.

* * *

EARTH, 2019 CE

SHEFFIELD, UK

_BEEEEP. BEEEEP. BEEEEP. BEEEEEP-_

"Doctor? Doctor, wake up!"

The Doctor blinked, protesting a bit at being brought back to wakefulness. "Can't I get some sleep, Ryan?" She sat up, groaning. "What time is it?"

"Five-fifty."

"In the morning?"

"Yeah," Ryan responded.

The Doctor pulled a face. "It's too _early._ What could be so important?"

"Fire alarms are going off. We need to go— _now._ "

_BEEEEP. BEEEEP. BEEEEP. BEEEEEP-_

"All right," the Doctor conceded. "I'm going."

They exited the flat, reaching the ground level in under a minute. The early morning air was brisk, a small breeze making the weather feel slightly colder than it already was.

"Any idea what happened?" the Doctor asked, shivering slightly. _I have **got** to get warmer pyjamas. I'm **freezing** in these._

"Nope," Ryan responded. "The alarms just started going off."

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Yaz. Where is she?"

"No idea," Ryan admitted. "I checked the flat; she wasn't there. She might have had work."

"Probably." The Doctor spotted a couple of Park Hill residents nearby, flagging them down. "Oi! Do you know what's goin' on?"

One of them, a man, shrugged. "No idea. I heard something about weed, but that's for the coppers to find out."

The Doctor turned to Ryan, slightly confused. "Weed?"

"Marijuana," he clarified.

The Doctor nodded. "Right. Good. Just wondering, because the selenium grass on Zeta-Nine is also commonly referred to as 'weed'. The Shadow Proclamation had numerous issues with people getting high off of that in its gaseous form over the past couple o' centuries; lots of arrests. Some of those blokes ended up on penal colonies for a few years. Very tricky stuff."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. She had clearly gotten a couple of strange looks, because the man's next words were, "Don't mind her; she's always this weird."

The Doctor folded her arms, staring at the apartment complex. Ryan bent forward a bit, whispering in her ear. "Maybe try _not_ to go around advertising that you're an alien?"

"Sorry; can't help it," the Doctor whispered back.

It was half an hour before they got the all-clear to go back inside. Word about what had happened spread across the Park Hill tenants like wildfire. From what the Doctor had heard, a few people in Flat 12 had decided to get drunk and smoke weed— _marijuana,_ she had to remind herself—inside their apartment, the act of which set off the fire alarms across the building.

"At least _that_ rude awakening is over with," she muttered while climbing up the stairs. She and Ryan soon arrived back at Flat 34, both looking exhausted.

"Did you grab a key?" she asked.

Ryan shook his head. "Did you?"

"No." The Doctor reached into her pyjama pockets, pulling out her sonic screwdriver. "I did bring this, though." She activated it, opening the door. "Not too difficult."

"I just wish Yaz would have a spare key laying around," Ryan muttered, closing the door behind them.

The Time Lord yawned. "Just where the heck _is_ Yaz, anyway?"

Ryan walked over to the kitchen counter, picking up a piece of paper. "It's from her: 'Gone to work,'" he read, "'Something came up early; with any luck this assignment should be resolved soon. If you want breakfast, feel free to make something. Just don't set off the smoke alarms.'" He put the paper back down, annoyed. "I'd rather not go through another round of that, thank you very much."

The Doctor glanced at the clock. _06:29._ She stretched. "Well, we're up anyway. We might as well get a shift on."

* * *

EARTH, 2019 CE

STAFFORD, UK

Yaz ultimately arrived at her destination around 06:35, noticing the castle's spires towering overhead as she parked her car. She exited the vehicle, staring up at the place she had heard so many ills about this morning.

"I _still_ don't understand why I had to travel more than a hundred kilometres for something like this," she muttered, locking up the car. "They must have really been desperate." She walked inside, the barista's warning in mind. The constable unholstered her gun, wary. "Hello?" she called. "Anyone here? This is the police!"

Nothing. Yaz frowned, walking to the directory map. Fortunately, the castle wasn't as much of a maze as she had first thought, so she put "getting lost" on her mental backburner for a possible reason for why so many people had disappeared.

Yaz grabbed her mobile, dialling Sunder's number. Normally, she would've activated her radio, but she was too far out of range to get a signal back to Sheffield.

_"This is Sunder,"_ the Sergeant said, picking up on the third ring.

"Sergeant, this is PC Khan," Yaz said. "I'm inside the castle at Stafford."

_"Acknowledged,"_ Sunder responded. _"Be careful, Yaz. We don't know what's out there. Keep us updated."_

"Yes, sir." Yaz ended the call. She treaded carefully, looking for anything out of the ordinary. She frowned, seeing a group of macabre-looking statues clustered around a mirror. "Now _that's_ not something you see every day." She turned left, heading for the toilets. It was as good of a place to check as any—and she was feeling the effects of having a lot of coffee while driving.

She entered the ladies' room, holstering her gun. "Emma Hansen, are you in here?" she asked.

No response. A thorough check of the stalls revealed that the Constable was the only one in the women's lavatory.

_Okay. So much for **that** idea._

After taking a few minutes to relieve herself, Yaz proceeded to check the men's room directly across the hall.

The door would not budge.

Yaz frowned, knocking on the door. "Is there anyone in there? This is the police! Open up!"

The constable heard movement inside, near the door. "How many of you are there?" a man's voiced asked, the accent definitely foreign.

"It's just me," Yaz told him.

"Are you alone?"

Yaz checked the area, nodding. "Yes; I'm alone. Are you going to let me in?"

"Yes, ma'am." The lock clicked, and Yaz was pulled inside before the door locked shut again. Yaz turned, seeing a frightened man in his mid-thirties, ginger hair skewed all over the place. "Rasmus Hansen?" she asked, cautious.

The man nodded. "Are they gone?" he asked.

Yaz tilted her head. "Are who gone? What about your family?"

Rasmus broke down in tears. "My family…oh, God." He sobbed.

Yaz knelt down, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be fine. Can you tell me what happened, sir?"

"My wife and baby," he whispered. "They were taken."

Yaz frowned. "Taken? By what?"

Rasmus trembled. "St-st-statues. Please, tell me you saw statues?"

_Odd question._ "I saw a _lot_ of statues, but there _were_ a few strange ones on the way here," Yaz admitted. "They were all crowded around a mirror. They didn't look so happy about it." She frowned. "What makes you think it was the statues?"

Rasmus crumpled again. "The three of us were walking down the corridors and then… _they_ appeared. It was almost as though they moved while you weren't looking, even for a second. And then Emma…Jakob—" the Dane broke down, screaming in anguish. Yaz looked at him sympathetically, knowing what he was about to say next. She changed the subject. "So, you just…ran?"

"Into here, yes," the man confirmed. "I didn't take my eyes off of them, not even for a second. I didn't even blink. I just… _ran;_ locked myself in here. Turns out those things don't like mirrors." He frowned. "My phone ran out of charge sometime after I got in here." He looked back up at her. "Officer…how long have I been in here? I _really_ don't feel good."

"About three to four days," she informed him. "You're lucky to be alive, mate." Yaz looked him over. "Have you consumed any food or water since you locked yourself in here?"

"N-no food, ma'am. I've been drinking from the taps." He pointed to the sinks.

Yaz frowned, fishing around in her vest until she found a granola bar. "Here; eat this. I'll let my superior know what's going on. Okay?"

The Dane nodded, shaking.

Yaz grabbed her phone, calling Sunder.

_"Did you find anything, Yaz?"_ her superior asked, picking up promptly.

"I found Rasmus Hansen, sir," she told him. "He'd locked himself in the lavatory for the past few days."

" _How is he?"_

"Malnourished and scared. I gave him a granola bar, but I did not have any bottled water on me for him to drink."

_"We'll do what we can for him once you get him out of there,"_ Sunder promised her. _"What of Emma and Jakob?"_

"No sign of them. Rasmus keeps saying that they were taken—by statues." She frowned. "But…statues don't move, do they?"

_"No,"_ Sunder said. _"However, I heard about a similar case at Wester Drumlins back in '08. Something about angel statues and a lot of people disappearing. Nobody could explain it. But, if it **does** turn out to be another case like that, get the hell out of there. Fast. That's an order."_

"Understood, sir." Yaz turned back to Rasmus, hanging up. "Can you walk?"

"I don't feel like getting up right now," the Dane moaned, having finished the granola bar.

"It's okay," Yaz reassured him. "We'll wait 'til you're able." She looked up. "I _am,_ however, going to have to unlock the door."

Rasmus grabbed her arm. "No! _Please!_ "

"I'm not going to open it," she said gently. "Besides, you said they don't like mirrors, right?" She gestured to the front part of the lavatory. "This place is full of 'em."

Rasmus reluctantly let go. "If-if you say so."

Yaz unlocked the door, careful not to open it. She turned back to Rasmus. "See? Nothing to worry about."

The Danish man nodded mutely, a look of terror still in his eyes. "What do we do now?"

Yaz folded her arms. "That's all on you. The sooner you recover, the sooner we can get out of here. But we're not leaving before then."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, mate." Yaz stood guard, staring at the door. _Sunder's warning is just like what the barista told me in Chesterfield,_ she mused. _What the hell is going **on** here? I want answers._

_But…statues?_


	4. Castle of Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor, Ryan, and Graham search for Yaz, but come across a lot more than they'd bargained for.

EARTH, 2019 CE

SHEFFIELD, UK

Ryan checked the clock again. _0_ _9:34._ Whatever assignment Yaz was working on, it definitely _wasn't_ taking a short amount of time. He glanced at the Doctor, who was clearly sharing his misgivings.

"Do you want to take a walk?" she asked.

"Yeah," Ryan admitted. "You're bored, too?"

"Definitely," she said. "I also don't feel like watching telly all day."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "So what are you waiting for?"

The Doctor stood, stretching. "Where do you want to go?"

Ryan grinned. "I wanted to try that bike again, if that's alright with you."

The Doctor nodded. "Absolutely."

* * *

_ONE HOUR LATER…_

Ryan stood, wincing. He'd already fallen into the grass more times than he'd cared to count, and his side was starting to ache after landing on it so much. He looked up, seeing the Doctor and Graham, the latter of whom had joined them about twenty minutes earlier.

"I think that's enough for a bit," he told them.

Graham glanced at the Doctor. "So, what now, Doc?"

The alien woman shrugged. "I was thinking about taking the TARDIS out for a quick trip—just to stop by and say hello to Yaz while she's at work."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Graham asked sceptically.

"She's bound to get on break eventually," Ryan pointed out.

The Doctor nodded. "Looks like it's settled, then."

They entered the TARDIS, materialising around Graham's car. He sighed. "Doc, how many times do I have to tell you? Not the car!"

"Like I've said every time, Graham, your car's fine," the alien retorted. She gestured to the vehicle. "And for the record, you were parked under a group of pigeons, so it looks like I just did you a favour."

The TARDIS ground its gears in response. The Doctor pulled a face. "Relax; you'll get a bath in the Time Vortex."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Pigeons?"

"Unfortunately," she admitted. "Apparently she just got hit with what would have happened to the paint job on Graham's car."

Ryan frowned, disgusted. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. She'll be fine once we get her cleaned up." She pulled the lever, and the familiar sound of the engines filled the console room. They stopped a several seconds later, having landed at wherever their destination was.

"Hey, Ryan?" the Doctor asked, fiddling with the console. "Can you step outside and check on the TARDIS exterior? I'm having trouble getting readings here."

"Sure." He opened the door, craning his neck upwards as he stepped backwards, aiming his phone torch at the top of the TARDIS. "I'm not seeing any pigeon shite on the roof, Doctor."

"That's wonderful news!" the woman called. "Come back inside!"

"Got it!" Ryan turned around, about to snuff out the torch when a particularly gruesome sight caught his eye—that of a rotting corpse with what looked like its spine ripped out. The _smell_ was a lot worse.

_That is **proper** disgusting._

His eyes widened. Before he knew it, nausea and panic got the better of him and he ran back into the TARDIS, hyperventilating over the console.

"Everything okay, Ryan?" the Doctor asked, concerned.

"No way," he admitted, pointing outside. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Well don't do it in here!" Graham complained.

"I did a scan of the place, and it looks like there's a men's room once you turn on the hallway to the left," the Doctor informed him. Ryan felt her hand on his shoulder. "What did you see out there?"

Ryan looked up at her, scared. "Dead body; _decomposing,_ dead body, with its spine ripped out!"

The alien's brow furrowed. "I wonder what could have done _that."_ She straightened, removing her hand from his shoulder. "Come on, you two."

Ryan briefly thought about objecting, but the prospect of a lavatory nearby overruled his fear. He exited the TARDIS, once again forced to look at the corpse.

"Poor bloke," Graham breathed. He shone his phone torch on it, revealing a police uniform. "I hope it's not anybody Yaz knows."

"I doubt it," the Doctor said, looking closer. She scanned it with her sonic. "Staffordshire Police. He's local. _Was_ local."

 _We're in Stafford?_ Ryan frowned, trying to control his nausea. "I thought we were going to find Yaz."

"We were," the Doctor confirmed. "This was where the TARDIS said she'd be." Her expression darkened. "In any case, we have to find Yaz and get out of here, quick as we can. It's likely that whatever killed this man is still around." She gestured to the humans. "I understand this is…well, disturbing. Like I said, men's lavatory is a left turn away. Do what you need to."

Graham nodded. "What about you, Doc?"

The alien frowned. "I need to cover the body. Also…there's something I'm missing, and I don't like it _at all."_

"Be careful." The Doctor nodded, her expression unreadable. Graham and Ryan ran to the lavatory, barging in. Ryan vomited for several seconds, vaguely aware of Graham's presence in the stall next to him. He wiped his mouth, flushing the toilet before poking his head out and—

_"Yaz?!"_

* * *

Yaz had been sitting down next to Rasmus when the door suddenly opened, followed swiftly by two men running inside the lavatory. Rasmus scooted closer to the door, spooked, shutting it promptly. The constable raised an eyebrow, frowning as she heard sounds of vomiting coming from at least one of the stalls, followed by the flushing of a toilet. She stood, about to ask if everything was okay when one of the persons emerged, staring at her in shock.

_"Yaz?!"_

"Ryan!" she exclaimed, surprised. They embraced, Ryan holding her tightly—a little _too_ tightly. She grimaced. "You're squishing me."

"Sorry." He let go, panting. "You're okay!"

"And _clearly_ you're _not,_ " she retorted. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"Here's a more _important_ question," Graham's voice complained from one of the stalls. "What _the hell_ are you doing in the men's lavatory, Yaz?"

"I'm at work!"

Ryan raised an eyebrow, breathing having started to return to normal. Yaz rolled her eyes. "Look. I got a call from Dispatch at four a.m., and it was serious enough for me to have to drive over a hundred kilometres to get here. Didn't you see my note?"

"Yeah, the Doctor and I _both_ did," he told her. "It was kind of vague."

The sound of another toilet flushing interrupted them. Graham emerged, washing his hands at the sink. "Well, carry on, then," the older man muttered. "Don't let me stop you."

Yaz shrugged. "Did you two come in the TARDIS?"

"Yep," Graham confirmed, voice surprisingly heavy as he shut off the faucet. "The Doc's still over by the dead body Ryan found near it."

_"WHAT?!"_

_Dead body?!_

Ryan nodded, a pained look in his eyes. "It's…grisly."

"Was it a woman or a baby?" Rasmus asked, worry in his voice.

Ryan shook his head. "No; it was a man. Staffordshire Police."

Rasmus sighed, probably with some relief. Graham walked over to him. "What's your name?"

"Rasmus," he responded shakily. "My family and I were—" He faltered. Graham knelt down in front of him. "I'm Graham, and this is my grandson, Ryan. Where are you from, mate?"

"Co-Copenhagen. We were on holiday."

"He's the reason I'm here," Yaz piped up. "The Danish Embassy contacted Scotland Yard, but those officials also went missing. Staffordshire's own police started investigating, but the same thing happened. That was also the case with Derbyshire last night."

"So your division was next," Ryan guessed.

"Yeah," Yaz confirmed. "I was the only one they sent."

"They probably didn't want anyone else missing," Ryan said. "Smart move."

_"Anyway,"_ Yaz said sternly, "We have just confirmed this is a major incident. A man has died here, and who knows how many others have gone missing. I need to update my superiors."

"So how did this happen in the first place?" Ryan asked.

"Angels," Rasmus said, panic starting to settle in his voice again.

Ryan frowned, perplexed. "Angels?"

"He means the statues," Yaz explained. She glanced at the other present members of the TARDIS crew. "You… _did_ see statues, right?"

Ryan and Graham exchanged nervous looks. "We weren't exactly paying attention," Graham admitted.

Yaz paled.

* * *

EARTH, 2019 CE

STAFFORD, UK

ELSEWHERE IN THE CASTLE MUSEUM

_Keep it to Earth, they said._

Out of all of the things that could have happened, this was the last thing that the Doctor could have expected. She looked down once again at the police officer's corpse, failing more than once to control her gag reflex. She'd seen gruesome things, sure, but this—

_No. Focus._

"I am so, so sorry this happened to you," she whispered sadly. "I promise, I will find out who you are, and whoever _did_ this, and I will do my best to make sure they are dealt with." She gingerly removed his radio, walking inside the TARDIS before placing it on the console and exiting once again, a medical blanket in her arms as she closed the door shut behind her.

_Perhaps that radio will tell us more about who he is, and how he died._

She hoped.

The Doctor placed the medical blanket over the man's corpse, scanning his body with her sonic screwdriver. She checked the device, frowning.

_Time of death was two days ago. I'm surprised no one found him sooner._

_Unless whoever was looking didn't make it this far._

Without warning, the screwdriver's power went out.

"Seriously? You want to do this _now?_ " The Doctor frowned, attempting to turn it back on again and again, to no avail. "Come _on!_ " she hissed, annoyed.

A quick glance in front of her piqued the Time Lord's interest—something _stone._ It hadn't been there a moment ago.

_**Please** don't let it be what I think it is._

Dread coursed through the Doctor's being. She looked up slowly, terror increasing as she saw a _very pissed-off_ Weeping Angel in front of her.

_Don't blink._

She gulped. "Hi."


	5. Don't Blink.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The TARDIS crew comes across a few complications while attempting to extract Rasmus from the museum.

EARTH, 2019 CE

STAFFORD, UK

CURRENT LOCATION OF RASMUS HANSEN

Yaz made an executive decision. "I'm calling the Doctor."

"Doctor?" Rasmus piped up. "You have doctor?"

"Yep," the constable confirmed, reaching for her mobile. "She's a bit strange, but she's really nice. I think you'll like her." She frowned, eyes narrowing at the message on her screen.

_No service._

"That's weird," Yaz mused. "I just had full bars a few minutes ago."

"They're coming," Rasmus said grimly.

Ryan frowned. "How can you tell?"

"The Angels drain power when they're close. Then they take you."

Graham raised an eyebrow. "They're just statues, mate."

"No, they're not!" Rasmus insisted.

_Now that I think about it…_ "I might have to agree with the Dane on this one, Graham," Yaz said sympathetically, putting away her phone. "I saw a few angry-looking statues crowded around a mirror just after I got here; artists just _don't_ make works like that, especially in a castle museum dated back to the reign of Queen Elizabeth I."

"Angels?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah."

Graham threw up his hands in frustration. "Well, that's just great. If it turns out we _are_ dealing with killer statues, how do we expect to get out of this one?"

Yaz frowned, facing Rasmus. "When you said that the Angels 'take you', where do you mean, exactly?"

"You disappear," Rasmus responded vaguely. "One touch, and, poof. You're gone."

"That's not very helpful, mate," Ryan muttered.

"It's all we have to go off of at the moment," Yaz rebuked. "And to be _quite_ frank, I'd prefer _not_ to be spirited away by a statue of all things." She locked the entrance door.

"Hang on a minute!" Graham protested. "We can't stay in here forever, you know!"

"I'm _aware,_ Graham. We need to come up with a plan," Yaz said sternly, pulling out her notepad. "Got any ideas?"

* * *

EARTH, 2019 CE

STAFFORD, UK

ELSEWHERE IN THE CASTLE MUSEUM

The Doctor backed away slowly, keeping her eyes open as she watched the Angel. "Okay," she whispered, hearing a slight quaver in her voice. She didn't know if it was fear, rage, or both. Probably both. "It all makes sense now, doesn't it? You're using this museum as a feeding ground, is that it?"

_This is bad._

_Yaz, Graham, and Ryan are in serious danger._

_I have to go warn them._

Her sonic screwdriver rebooted, and ever so discreetly, she turned the TARDIS force field up to maximum. The Doctor placed it in her bum bag, zipping it up, all while keeping her gaze locked on the Angel.

_How many **are** there? How long have these monsters been here? Is my fam safe?_

_Am I surrounded?_

The lights flickered. The Angel was closer than she liked now.

_Maybe now would be a good time to run._

She kept backing up, deviating so that she was moving away from the TARDIS instead of towards it. The Doctor had no idea how long the force fields would hold, or if the Angel had decided to try draining it.

The corridor was then engulfed in darkness.

The Doctor stayed absolutely still, hearts leaping to her throat with dread. "No lights," she told herself. "This is _very_ not good."

Cold stone hands gripped her tightly by the throat, brutally forcing the now panicking Time Lord against the castle wall. The lights flickered back on, revealing the Angel nose-to-nose in front of her, _much_ angrier than it had been previously.

If it hadn't been holding her throat in a death grip, the Doctor would have screamed.

* * *

"We can outrun them," Graham suggested.

Rasmus shook his head. "Not unless you're running… _baglæns._ How do you say in English, again? Not forwards?"

"Backwards?" Ryan supplied.

"Backwards," Rasmus repeated. "Right. Tak—Thanks."

Yaz frowned. "So, that's it? We can't take our eyes off of it? Otherwise it'll get us?"

Rasmus nodded.

_Wonderful._ Graham folded his arms. "So, we just look at them. Fine. Rasmus, how did you go about it?"

The Dane shrugged. "I just tried not blinking, and that seemed to have worked. I guess that's why they don't like mirrors."

Ryan's brow furrowed. "Are they _that_ ugly?"

Yaz pulled a face. "Judging by the ones I saw earlier, I'd have to go with a solid 'yes.'"

Ryan walked over to Graham. "So…based on what we just learned, when is a statue not a statue?"

"When it's moving," Graham answered easily.

"But what about when we cannot see them?" Rasmus challenged, voice growing confident, but still weak with malnourishment. "We do not know what they do when we are not watching."

Yaz's eyes narrowed. "What if that includes blinking?"

"You have got to be kidding me," Graham breathed. _If we can't blink…_

Ryan's eyebrows shot up in a similar reaction. "Then we're probably done for."

"Not if you try really hard to keep your peepers open wide," Rasmus said firmly.

Yaz frowned. "You can't not blink, mate. It's not possible."

"Not for long. But if it comes down to that, we do not have any other possibility."

Graham nodded. Yaz glanced at Rasmus. "Can you stand?"

The Dane tried standing, but it was painfully clear that he could not support his own weight. Yaz consoled him, telling the Dane that they'd give him a hand.

The sound of a loud crash sent a jolt through Graham's veins. "What the hell was _that?!"_

"Whatever it was, it's close," Yaz remarked. She pocketed her notepad, unholstering a pistol.

"Whoa, Yaz!" Graham panicked. "You know the Doc's _really_ not going to like that."

"Like it or not, I'm on _duty,_ Graham," Yaz reminded him sternly. "I'm authorised to use whatever means necessary to keep you all safe."

"You can't kill a statue," Ryan warned.

Yaz adjusted her weapon. "Then I can at least slow it down."

_I don't know…_ "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Graham asked.

"I'll be looking at it anyway," Yaz assured him. "Graham, you and Ryan help Rasmus." Her face turned serious. "We're leaving. _Now._ "

He nodded. Graham walked over to the Dane's right side, Ryan moving to the man's left. "Are you ready, mate?"

Rasmus nodded grimly. "I'm doing a little better now."

"Try to save the relief for later," Yaz said sternly. "We're in no way out of this one yet." She unlocked the door, opening it slowly, holding her gun in front of her.

"Well?" Ryan asked, cautious.

"Coast is clear. Come on."

They moved out of the lavatory, huddling behind Yaz. The constable occasionally glanced behind her, clearly watching out for angel statues.

"Where did you say the TARDIS was, again?" Yaz asked.

Graham grimaced, struggling slightly under Rasmus's weight. Even malnourished, the Dane was still decently muscular. "It should be in the corridor to your right."

"The _next_ corridor?"

"Yeah."

They crept forward, coming up on the turn several metres later. Graham glanced behind them. _No angels. So far, we're safe._

"Okay," Yaz said warily, once they were all in the hallway. "How far down?"

"At least ten metres," Graham told her.

Yaz nodded, gun pointed straight in front of her. They moved again, slower, matching the young constable's reduced pace.

An all-too-familiar smell hit Graham's nose. Yaz expressed her disgust verbally, adding, "That's ripe."

"Yeah," Ryan confirmed. "That's the dead body we were telling you about. We're close."

Yaz stopped short a few moments later, pistol at the ready. "DON'T MOVE OR I'LL SHOOT!"

"Angel?" Graham guessed, glancing at her.

"Yeah," Yaz confirmed, voice trembling. "It's looking right at me."

She blinked.

A second later, she screamed, firing several rounds.

"Did it move?" Ryan asked.

" _Obviously,_ otherwise I wouldn't be _shooting_ it!" Yaz snapped.

"So I guess blinking _is_ out, then."

"Shut up, Ryan!"

Rasmus gulped. "T-there _are_ bodies."

"We can focus on that later, mate," Yaz said, ceasing fire. "Can one of you take over for me? I need to blink."

Ryan nodded, relinquishing his support of the Dane. "I got you." He gasped, clearly spooked, staring at the creature. "How long do you need?"

"I'll let you know when."

"This thing is proper scary..."

"I'm aware." Yaz turned around, gasping as she blinked. Graham frowned. "You alright, Yaz?"

"I'm just a bit shook up, that's all," she told him, panting. "I am _never_ looking at a statue the same way again." She reached into her uniform, pulling out what looked to be more ammunition, clearly having wasted bullets on the angel statue.

Graham nodded, satisfied. But something still bothered him.

_Wait..._

_Did Rasmus say that there were **more than one** of those corpses? Or was that just a language mishap?_

He turned back to the Dane, lowering his voice so as not to distract Ryan and Yaz from the angel. "Did you say 'bodies', mate? As in—plural?"

"Yeah," Rasmus whispered, pointing ahead into the corridor. Graham scooted the two of them over, not only seeing a horrifying-looking angel statue, but the TARDIS several metres diagonally to the left behind it. He saw something on the ground covered in a blanket—presumably the dead body they had seen earlier.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

A closer look revealed a small figure laying very still, crumpled in front of the TARDIS doors, just a few metres behind the shrouded figure. Graham's breath caught in his throat, an unwelcome chill running over him as he did his best to suppress the urge to panic.

"No," he breathed. _Not the Doc._

"What?" Yaz asked, worry in her voice. Her gun cocked. "What is it?"

"Focus on the angel!" Graham snapped. _We can't afford to have anyone **else** go down right now._

"Yaz?" Ryan asked. "Are you ready to switch?"

"Ready!" the young constable hollered.

"Now!"

The two youngest members of Team TARDIS switched places again, Yaz opening fire on the statue as Ryan ran back to Graham and Rasmus. He resumed supporting the Dane on his left, relieving Graham of some of the physical weight. His eyes widened, evidently having seen the Doctor.

"Okay," Ryan said slowly. "Now we can panic."

Graham glanced at him. "Do you want to make a break for the TARDIS?"

"Definitely." Ryan frowned. "How many of these angels _are_ there?"

"I only see one," Rasmus commented, coughing. Graham looked at him worriedly. "Save your strength, mate." He looked around, relieved to see that the Dane was right. "Okay," the older man said, looking back at Rasmus and Ryan. "Ready?"

They nodded.

"RUN!"

The three made their way to the TARDIS as fast as they could, getting there without interference.

Just one problem…

_We can't get in._

The TARDIS doors refused to budge, no matter how hard Graham tried. He glared at the ship. "Come on, you! Open up!"

"We are in _danger,_ dammit!" Ryan screamed. "If we stay out here, we're probably going to die. _LET. US. IN!_ "

Graham held his breath. Finally, the doors opened. He glanced at Ryan. "Get him inside," he said seriously. "I'll grab the Doctor."

Ryan nodded, relieving him entirely of the Dane's weight. Graham knelt down, picking up the alien bridal-style in his arms. The Doctor did not wake, her head lolling to the side. Graham looked forwards, worried, seeing Yaz still firing at the angel.

"YAZ!" he hollered. "COME ON! WE'RE LEAVING!"

"BUT I CAN'T TAKE MY EYES OFF IT!" the constable retorted.

Graham sighed. "WE DON'T HAVE TIME TO ARGUE, YAZ! I'LL KEEP AN EYE ON IT. JUST HEAD FOR THE TARDIS! HURRY!"

Yaz stopped firing, fleeing for her life as Graham stared at the creature.

_No blinking,_ he told himself.

That, he found, was a seriously difficult task.

Yaz was only a couple of metres away now. Graham kept his eyes on the angel. "Come on, Yaz! COME ON!"

The constable ran right past him, into the TARDIS. He backed up, walking inside. Graham glanced over his shoulder. "Everyone's here!"

"Get us _out_ of here!" Ryan pleaded.

Graham looked outside, seeing the angel a few metres closer to them than it was previously. The TARDIS doors slammed shut in front of him, and the familiar sound of the ship's engines reverberated through the room as it, too, decided to flee.

After a few seconds, they stopped.

Graham frowned. "Where are we?"

"We must be in the parking lot, just outside the castle," Yaz guessed.

"How can you tell?"

"We materialised around my police car." She walked over to him, noticing the Doctor limp in Graham's arms for the first time. She frowned. "What…happened?"

"No idea," Graham admitted, setting the alien down. "We just found her like this."

Yaz's eyes narrowed. "Can you help me get her coat off? I need to check for injuries."

Graham nodded. They were able to get it off after a moment, and he put the coat next to the console. Ryan walked over, Rasmus in tow.

"Where is your doctor?" Rasmus asked, noticing the alien.

Yaz turned back to him. "You're looking right at her, mate." She glanced at Graham. "Graham, I'm going to have to ask you to give me some space. But don't go far."

The older man backed up, leaving Yaz to check over the Doctor. He looked down, seeing an ugly set of bruises on the alien's neck, along with a few long scrapes in the same area. Yaz sighed, having noticed it as well. "Whatever it was that _got_ to her, it was likely aiming to strangle."

_"Please_ tell me we don't have a snake on the loose, too," Ryan groaned.

Yaz shook her head. "No; these bruises look like they were done by hands. Ones that had a _very_ strong grip." She checked the alien over, checking both wrists.

"Well?" Ryan asked.

Yaz straightened after a moment, exhaling with relief. "She's got both pulses."

Rasmus frowned, ginger hair falling in his face as the confused expression on his face became prominent. " _Both_ pulses?"

"Long story short, she's an alien with two hearts," Ryan explained.

"You jest!"

"Nah, mate, it's true," Graham responded.

Rasmus looked around, eyes now wide. "And this…this is her spaceship?"

He nodded.

Rasmus sighed. "Wow." His face fell. "I wish Emma and Jakob could see this." Tears fell down the Dane's face. "Assuming," he started, faltering. "Assuming they were still alive, wherever they are, do you think my wife and son, do you think they'll remember me?"

Yaz stood. "I think they'll definitely miss you," she said. "And Jakob will probably grow up to be someone you'll be proud of."

"But—will I be able to see them again?"

Yaz bowed her head. "I'm sorry, mate. I don't know."

Rasmus closed his eyes, more tears sliding down his face. The TARDIS doors opened, revealing a parking lot outside. Graham stepped out, seeing empty police cars from Derbyshire and Staffordshire lining several of the spaces. The crisp winter wind brushed against his face, reminding him of just how much they had gone through today.

Rasmus and Ryan joined him, followed closely by Yaz. Graham glanced at the young constable. "How's the Doc?"

Yaz shrugged. "She hasn't woken up yet, if that's what you mean." She sighed, leaning against the ship. "Whatever hurt her must have left her for dead. Nobody with _that_ strong a grip aims to be merciful."

"Just be glad the lass is alive," Rasmus said grimly.

Ryan glanced at him. "What are you thinking of doing once we get out of this, mate?"

Rasmus shrugged. "At this point? Go back to Denmark, hit the pub, and drink until I don't have to live with this nightmare."

"I'd advise _against_ that last part," Yaz warned.

Rasmus gritted his teeth, swaying slightly. "I just lost my wife and baby, Yasmin! What the hell do you _expect_ me to do?"

"Remember them," she said seriously. "And don't you dare throw your life away just because you lost them, mate, because that's no way to live. Get a shift on and carry them with you. That's really all you can do."

He didn't respond for a moment, instead choosing to change the subject. "How is a spaceship large enough to fit two automobiles inside able to fit inside a parking lot?" He turned around, eyes narrowing. "What?" He disentangled himself from Ryan, walking around the TARDIS, poking his head inside before looking back outside, flummoxed. "It's bigger on the inside!" He raised an eyebrow. "Is it supposed to be like that?"

Graham shrugged. "I…guess." Truthfully, he had just stopped questioning it after they had gotten themselves away from Desolation.

"And the alien doctor—is she the only one who knows how to fly this thing?"

"Her ship flies itself sometimes," Yaz admitted, "but the rest of us never actually learned."

The four of them stared at the castle museum for a silent moment, sobered by what had happened. It was Ryan who eventually broke the silence. "So, what now?"

"I've been thinking," Yaz responded. "If I can somehow manage to hook up my phone's GPS to the console, we might be able to get to the precinct in Sheffield." She raised an eyebrow. "I might have a charger in the car."

"Is your phone dead?" Rasmus asked.

"Yeah. I think it might have been because of that angel." She glanced back at them. "Shall we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS (DANISH):
> 
> "Baglæns": Backwards
> 
> "Tak": Thanks


End file.
